


straight out of the fold of caution

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: St Trinian's (2007 2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Fusion, Amnesia, Angst, Arguing, Character of Color, Community: fan_flashworks, F/F, Female Character of Color, Female Characters, Female Relationships, Female-Centric, Hopeful Ending, Interracial Relationship, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, POV Character of Color, Prompt Fic, Rare Characters, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how many times Andrea and Taylor undergo the procedure, they continue to find each other, fall in love, and then struggle to forget each other again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	straight out of the fold of caution

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted at fan_flashworks](http://fan-flashworks.dreamwidth.org/13948.html)
> 
>  
> 
> for the [Anywhere But Here Challenge](http://fan-flashworks.dreamwidth.org/tag/c:+anywhere+but+here).
> 
> Holy moly, I finished in time! \o/ I had plans to write crack, because I thought it would be a hilarious idea for Taylor and Andrea to fight so much that they decide to forget each other a lot. Then suddenly (as these things are wont to do), everything turned way too serious and angsty. There's a hopeful ending, at least?

"Look, there's nothing else to say. I fucking hate her."

~*~

Annabelle blinks. "Is that … ?" She's not sure she's actually seeing— Well, what she's _seeing_ , because it's _impossible_. "Polly?"

Polly looks up, meets Annabelle's eyes, and then follows Annabelle's gaze and the additional help of all of her pointing. Polly purses her lips, which could mean any number of things, but it's clear that Polly's spotted them, too — Andrea and Taylor chatting with each other like they're the best of friends.

"Interesting," Polly says.

Annabelle can't stop her jaw from falling open. She shakes her head, because this isn't _interesting_. It's a— It's a _disaster_.

"It can't be," she says. "It's not—" She looks down at Polly again, who's always been solid and precise, regardless of what's going on around them. "Can it?"

"I'm always very thorough."

Which is only moderately gratifying as an answer. Annabelle still has to nod in agreement. After all, Polly was the one who perfected the technique. That, however, hardly explains _them_ — Andrea and Taylor window shopping across the street, enjoying a lovely afternoon stroll when they shouldn't know each other at all.

It's Kelly who breaks their staring with a laugh. "Maybe it's fate, ladies."

~*~

Taylor thrusts out a hand, and the girl doesn't even flinch. "My name's Taylor."

She smiles in answer, her blood-red lips stretching wide. It makes her look eerie, but Taylor can't stop staring. "Andrea. Nice to meet you, Taylor."

~*~

"God, Taylor, can't you just—"

"Just what!" Taylor jabs a finger into Andrea's chest and hopes it bloody hurts the way her own chest does right now. "Go on. Say it. I know you're thinkin' it. Just like everybody else."

"That's not bloody fair!" Andrea shouts, and bats Taylor's hand down, grabs it like it still means something after all the nasty things she's been thinking about Taylor this entire time.

Chav, Taylor's mind supplies, saying it all dirty the way she's heard it on the streets.

They're going to fight. Taylor feels it in her bones, in the way her hand shakes in Andrea's grip.

"Fuck you, Andrea," she says, and snatches her hand out of Andrea's cold grip. "Get out."

Andrea stands there, frozen to the spot, and the bint— She looks like she's going to cry. "You don't mean—"

Yes, Taylor thinks ferociously. "Get out. Get. _Out_."

It takes Taylor shoving her out the door, but she goes. She's finally gone, the scent of her stupid perfume all that lingers, and Taylor slams the door shut, her hands shaking against the chipped white paint. She slumps to the floor and slams her fist down again and again. She's not going to cry. Not for Andrea. Not for an _emo_ , who's been—

Taylor shakes her head, choking on her own breath.

The corpse bride can go find a fucking _grave_ to have her jollies in.

~*~

Polly frowns. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Taylor says, "Yes," before Polly's even finished the question.

"Taylor." Polly pauses and stares at Taylor like she's stupid, but she's not. She knows what Polly does. She might not know all the boring details of how it works, but she knows that it does. Business has been booming since Polly set up shop. "This isn't—"

"I know, all right? Just do it."

Taylor holds her breath until Polly nods and hits the button on the recorder. "All right. Tell me everything you can about her. Start from the beginning."

Taylor shuts her eyes. She can do that. The beginning is easy.

~*~

"Is this—" Annabelle slaps a hand on the table when she nearly tips out of her chair while attempting to peek past the beam blocking her view of the shop. "Is this a joke?"

"Doesn't look it," Kelly says, even though she hasn't looked up from her book.

"Kelly, just." Annabelle waves a hand, so Kelly can see the importance of all of this. "Just _look_."

"Why bother?" Kelly flips a page in her book, even enjoys a sip of tea without looking up. "They're happy. It's not our place."

"But—"

Annabelle yelps in surprise when she tips too far back again. She flails for balance, her stomach dropping with the certain knowledge that she's going to fall and make more of a fool of herself than she already has. Kelly, however, grabs Annabelle's knee, always to the rescue, and puts her back proper in the chair.

"No buts," Kelly says with a smile, and pats Annabelle's knee.

Annabelle feels her heart in her throat but can't get distracted by it, so she frowns. "We have to tell Polly."

Kelly glances over her shoulder and finally looks. Andrea and Taylor are holding hands now, leaning so close to each other that they might kiss. They look like they want to.

Kelly just shrugs. "Polly will find out eventually. No need to rush things."

~*~

Andrea holds Taylor's hand like she's afraid to let go. Taylor wants to poke some fun at it, but then Andrea whispers, "May I kiss you?"

And Taylor laughs. "I've never been asked before." She rolls onto her side, snuggling closer to Andrea, who's frowning now, lips all pinched up when she's thinking too hard about something silly. "Yeah. Kiss me."

Andrea smiles. "You're sure?"

Taylor rolls her eyes, grabs Andrea's shoulder, and crushes her mouth to Andrea's. The piercings don't ever get in the way like Taylor thinks they should. They _are_ a bit odd, but they don't block the soft, warm shape of Andrea's mouth against hers or the subtle taste of strawberries. It's funny in a way. Andrea never seemed the sort to enjoy flavoured lip gloss, and Taylor can't help but have another small laugh at Andrea's expense.

"I wasn't prepared!" Andrea says defensively, which makes Taylor laugh harder as she tugs Andrea close again.

"Shut up, you bint, and kiss me."

~*~

Polly folds her hands on top of the desk, looking as severe as any geek. "We need your verbal consent."

Taylor huffs a sigh. "I don't know why I have to bother. I know how this works."

"It's standard procedure, no exceptions," Polly says, and turns the recorder toward Taylor.

Scowling, Taylor folds her arms across her chest and blows out a breath. "I, Taylor Hart, am agreeing to this mind-wipe"—She waves a hand, rolling her eyes at Polly's frown—" _procedure_ so I can forget all about Andrea Clarke."

Polly's severe, disapproving frown doesn't vanish, but she clicks off the recorder and that's _almost_ that.

~*~

Taylor and Andrea have known each other long enough that Taylor doesn't mind inviting Andrea up to her flat. The first time she does, Andrea picks up the gold-rimmed egg that Taylor keeps on the dresser. She nicked it off some bloke years ago, if memory serves her right. She can't remember the particulars, but the trinket was shiny and the opportunity was there.

It could have easily been a test of some sort, so it's a bit funny when Andrea asks her with a breathless sort of wonder, "Where'd you get this?"

Taylor shrugs. "Can't remember. You want it?"

A funny look crosses Andrea's face, and she stares at Taylor with eyes so wide that Taylor would think Andrea was the one who nicked the thing and stupidly got caught in the process.

Taylor waves a hand and pats Andrea's shoulder. "You can have it."

"But it's—" Andrea shakes her head and quickly sets the egg down again. "No, it's yours. It looks very valuable."

"I'm sure it is," Taylor says with a shrug. She picks it up and tosses it into the air, laughing at the way Andrea gasps. She distracts Andrea with another toss of the egg and then presses it into Andrea's hands, curling Andrea's fingers around it when she starts protesting again. "I want you to have it."

"But Taylor."

Andrea frowns. A St Trinian's girl can steal anything in the _world_ but balk at receiving a gift. It's almost laughable.

"It's a gift," Taylor says, patting Andrea's hand. "I'm allowed to give you gifts, aren't I?"

Andrea looks down at their hands, and Taylor stares, too, because it's better than watching the way Andrea's eyes tear up like she's going to cry. Emos, she thinks. They're so bloody confusing sometimes. This isn't a gift that warrants crying. The egg is an expensive-looking trinket that was— It was a one-off steal.

"No one's ever given me anything before," Andrea says, whisper-soft. "It's—" She darts in for a quick kiss, pressing it to Taylor's cheek. "Thank you."

~*~

Annabelle tosses her hands in the air. "This doesn't make any sense!" She can't be the only one who's concerned about this. "There must be a flaw in the process. Or-Or—" She looks between Kelly, perched on Polly's desk, and Polly and drops into the only available chair in the room, finishing with a weak, "Something."

"There aren't any flaws," Polly says, and it's as simple as that. There's no arguing with her about it anymore, so Annabelle bites her bottom lip to keep from saying anything more. "It's them."

Annabelle's afraid to ask and glances at Kelly. Kelly's rubbing the tip of Polly's stylus across her lips and looks bored with the whole ordeal.

"So what is it then?" Kelly stops and smirks, looking downright deviant, and Annabelle has to look away a moment. "True love?"

"No," Polly says.

"Come on, Polly." Annabelle looks up, helpless not to when she can see Kelly leaning forward, the stylus dangling loosely between her fingers, the tip of it hovering right above Polly's hand. "It could be. Imagine it."

Annabelle stares at her own empty hands and doesn't have to use her imagination when she's seen it — Andrea brandishing a rose, Taylor brandishing rope and a threat, both of them chasing after each other, serious about nothing except how their feelings for each other.

"They keep finding each other," Kelly says, almost echoing Annabelle's own silent thoughts. "They keep—"

"Falling in love," Annabelle says.

And when she looks up, hands curled tightly in her lap, she wishes she had something that special.

~*~

Andrea stretches, wriggling her fingers and toes and groaning loudly enough that she'd be disturbing Taylor's neighbors if Taylor had any.

"So," Andrea says, and curls up against Taylor's side again, the tips of her fingers tracing the swell of Taylor's breast. "What do you like?"

"A bit late to be asking that, isn't it?"

Andrea frowns and flushes at the same time. It's cute. Taylor's surprised Andrea's blush is even visible beneath all the make up that she insists on wearing.

"I just want to know." Andrea stops and lifts her shoulder in a shrug as she walks her fingers down Taylor's stomach. "I want to know everything about you."

~*~

Taylor is so bloody tired of _talking_.

But Polly won't relent. Her mouth is pinched like she's eaten a sour candy, and she must love the stupid things, because Taylor hardly ever sees her looking any other way these days.

"Tell me everything," Polly repeats. "Start from the beginning."

"Are you trying to stop me?"

"No, Taylor, of course not. This is part of the procedure. It ensures that we find every memory possible."

"Then poof, she'll be gone, yeah?"

Polly nods. "She'll be erased. You'll wake up in your flat as if it were an average day."

"Good." Taylor presses record. "I'm tired of having that stupid harpy in my head all the time."

~*~

The geeks aren't even aware of Taylor's secret. Taylor's been zealous in keeping it, and she's learned enough about CCTV cameras and security surveillance that she avoids getting caught at it. After all, a St Trinian's girl needs a few secrets that she keeps to herself.

This one's Taylor's. When she's in a mood, restless and snappish, she steals books.

She doesn't limit herself to the classics or anything expensive that requires geek intelligence. She'll nick a penny novel or a stupid romance with the ridiculous covers if the mood suits her. Sometimes, she'll nick poetry books or art books. She'll even nick the occasional geography book.

There's nothing to explain about it. Taylor likes the way the pages feel in her pocket or purse. She feels like she's stealing adventures instead of objects.

She's busy plucking up a book on architecture, the tall, sprawling building on the cover having caught her eye, and some clumsy prat nearly knocks Taylor on her bum.

Taylor's quick enough to catch her balance, but a whole shelf of books fall when the girl tries to stop her fall. She looks … almost familiar. The make up and piercings. Taylor would bet her savings that the girl is St Trinian's.

"Oh, sorry," she says, and smiles like she might actually mean it. "I got a bit lost in my own head."

Then the girl reaches for the books, and Taylor steps out the way, making it clear, "I didn't steal anything."

The girl looks up, startled, and then looks down again. "I didn't think you had." She lifts up several paperbacks, spreading them apart. "Are any of these yours?"

"No, I hate books." Taylor kicks one onto the bottom shelf. "They're only good for door stops."

The girl laughs and shoves everything out of the aisle. She stands, dusts herself off, and then extends a hand. "I'm Andrea."

~*~

"God, Taylor, why can't you—" Andrea throws up her hands.

She stares at Taylor, not saying a word, so when she crosses the room, Taylor instinctively steps back. She's not running away, of course. She wants some distance is all, but Andrea's right there in front of her and grabbing up her hands.

"Why can't you just tell me that you love me?" Andrea asks.

Taylor blinks. "Like what? Like—" She swallows down the lump that's formed in her throat. "Like some stupid romcom? Honestly, _that's_ what you want?"

Andrea lets go of Taylor's hands and starts picking at a loose thread in her blouse. Taylor watches it unravel, piece by piece until Andrea shakes her head and says, "Never mind."

~*~

Annabelle stares down at Andrea's face. "Is there a risk of …" She trails off, trying to figure out how to ask the question when the entire procedure is a form of brain damage.

Polly says as much when Annabelle glances at her. "Long-term effects, however, are negligible. She'll wake up like she always has. The only thing she won't remember is Taylor."

Annabelle nods, and Kelly sighs.

"I don't know why you bother with them anymore," Kelly says, flipping through the magazine that was on top of Andrea's dresser. "Seems like they can't stay away from each other."

"It's their choice," Polly says.

Kelly smirks and saunters to Polly's chair, resting her hands on Polly's shoulders. Annabelle looks out the window, walks to it for more distance, but Kelly's voice is soft and intimate but not low enough that Annabelle can escape it.

"That's precisely what I've been saying, love."

~*~

"So I noticed you staring." The stranger slides into the seat across from Taylor even though Taylor never invited her over. "But not in an annoying way."

Taylor knows better. You don't stare, least of all at your mark, but sometimes, it's easy to recognize a fellow St Trinian's girl, and Taylor finds herself missing those connections on afternoons like these when she's all alone.

She's still a rude girl, though, and she's so bloody grateful that Bianca made changing the clique name a priority the moment that she was announced head of the clique. So Taylor frowns and says, "Yeah, what of it?"

The girl smiles. "It was—" She pauses, tongue peeking out from between her lips, nose scrunching up dramatically, enough that the light catches her piercings. "It was like." She looks at Taylor with a dreamy smile, and Taylor's prepared for something _creepy_ to be said. "Like a stalker."

"I'm not—" Taylor protests, but she's struck silence when the girl slides her hand over Taylor's.

"I like it. I'm Andrea."

~*~

Andrea's gone, and there's only one place for Taylor to go, but Annabelle's finally found her spine and is looking every inch the entitled prat when she says, "No."

"Look—"

"Polly isn't here."

She puts a slim black flash drive into Taylor's palm, forcing Taylor's hands around it. "Go home, Taylor. Stop trying to forget someone you'll never be able to."

"That's—" But Annabelle's walking out the door. "That's the whole fucking point of the procedure," Taylor says anyway, and chases after Annabelle to tell her so.

~*~

Taylor freezes when she sees Andrea on the step, knees drawn to her chest.

Andrea holds up a black flash drive, the same one tucked in Taylor's pocket. "Annabelle gave me this."

"Yeah?" Taylor steps around Andrea, but Andrea grabs her leg before she can vanish into her flat and wait for Polly to call her back.

"Aren't you going to ask me?"

"No," Taylor says, and shakes her leg to jog Andrea loose. "Sod off."

"Taylor."

Andrea pulls herself up, and Taylor's fully expecting her to leave, like she always does, so she's off balance and almost careens into the door when Andrea's arms flop around her shoulders.

"You, Taylor," Andrea whispers in her ear. "I don't even know who you are, but I can't forget you, and I've _tried_. I've tried so many times."

Taylor starts shaking and grabs the door knob to put a stop to such nonsense. "Then go find Polly. She's got an entire business that makes people forget things."

"Don't you—"

Taylor can't— Not here in front of her flat, not after Annabelle refused to explain anything. She shoves Andrea away and shoves her again, because—

" _You_ wanted to forget. _You_ walked away—"

"And you?" Andrea steps close again, and Taylor— Taylor hates her, every bit of her, all over again, but she can't pull away when Andrea kisses her. It's so _familiar_ and infuriating and painfully sweet, gentle like the first kiss they share in the mornings when their breath smells terrible. "I love you, Taylor."

Seems too late for those words, and all Taylor can do is shake her head.

"Shhh," Andrea says, brushing her fingertips across Taylor's mouth, making Taylor tremble all the way down to her toes. "Just— Let me make you tea and we'll have a listen, all right?"

Taylor grabs Andrea's hand and tears it away from her mouth. "No."

Then she rushes into her flat, shuts the door, and throws the flash drive, the paintings, Andrea's stupid magazines — everything that she can get a hold of — in the bin.

~*~

Her name is Andrea. Annabelle introduces them, and Taylor openly stares, questioning Annabelle's tastes.

When Andrea goes to the loo to reapply her lipstick or slather on more makeup or cry over the sink or whatever emos do for fun, Taylor grabs Annabelle's arm and jerks her closer.

"She's a bloody _emo_."

Annabelle laughs and pats Taylor's hand. "Trust me. You two are perfect for each other."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Folding Caution (The Time to Remember Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/668991) by [amaresu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaresu/pseuds/amaresu)




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